


Ghostly Callisthenics

by Small_Hobbit



Series: A Study By Ghosts [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, ghost au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 04:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20539976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: With October and Hallowe'en approaching what is more natural than the ghosts decided to get fit?





	Ghostly Callisthenics

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DW's Watson's Woes "Strong Spirits" prompt.

“Ouch,” exclaimed John Watson. “For goodness sake, Hopkins, do be careful!”

“Sorry,” Hopkins said. He was hanging from the door frame of 221B. “It will soon be October, so I thought I would limber up a bit.”

Watson rubbed his chin, where Hopkins had managed to kick him whilst swinging to and fro. “You have almost a month to go. Can’t you wait a bit?”

One would assume that Dr Watson, one of the four ghosts currently living at 221B Baker Street, would be impervious to pain. However, it appeared that the ectoplasm which brought the four into existence permitted some form of contact between them, and, although no damage would be rendered, a sudden blow, as from a foot to a chin, would give a momentary twinge of pain.

At that moment, Lestrade, wearing something which resembled a leopard skin leotard stumbled through the doorway, carrying a huge set of dumbbells. “Out of the way, Hopkins,” Lestrade said. “These are heavy.”

He began to lift the dumbbells, dropped one and stepped back quickly.

“Ouch,” said Watson. “That was my foot.”

“Sorry, old man,” Lestrade said. “What was it doing there?”

“Strangely enough, it was connected to my leg.”

“Ooh,” said Hopkins. “Has it fallen off?”

“Hopkins,” Watson said firmly, “we are ghosts, not skeletons. Therefore, we do not lose parts of our anatomy.”

Lestrade sat down. “I might have to begin with something smaller,” he said. “And work up to the larger sizes.”

“Yes,” Watson agreed. “I suppose you are limbering up for October too.”

“Indeed,” Lestrade agreed. “All those villains who try to hide their evil intentions by pretending to be Hallowe’en characters. It’s such fun to play them at their own game.”

Watson groaned. “At least Holmes won’t be joining with your inanity,” he said.

He spoke too soon. A floating sheet appeared, bumped into Hopkins in the doorway, veered to the side and tripped over Lestrade. It then landed heavily on top of Watson.

“Oof!” Watson said. “Holmes, get off me.”

The sheet was pushed to one side, to reveal the ghostly Holmes. “What do you think of my new disguise?” he asked.

“Not a lot,” Watson said. “And what are you doing with that?”

“It’s a skipping rope. Boxers use them in their training regime. And, as you know, I was an accomplished boxer.”

“Hmpf!” Watson floated up to the ceiling and stretched out as if in a hammock. “You three can do your exercises down there. I am staying up here until it is safe for me to come back down.”


End file.
